The drive-thru doesn’t judge you, and neither do we.

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who eat fast food and those who eat fast food and pretend they don’t. Both of them know exactly what they want when they pull up to that speaker. Both of them have a order so memorized they could recite it under anesthesia. The difference is one of them spends thirty seconds feeling weird about it afterward, and the other one is already eating the fries before they leave the parking lot.

Fast food people are built different. Not in a bad way, in a way that suggests a healthy relationship with joy, efficiency, and the understanding that sometimes the most correct meal is one that arrives in a paper bag through a window in under four minutes. There is no tablecloth. There is no amuse-bouche. There is a sauce packet and a straw and something wrapped in paper that is, against all reasonable culinary logic, exactly what you needed.